Oh Goddess, what happened? There is so much pain...
Bastill, awoke with a heaving breath in. The aches and pains he felt contrasted with the warmth seeping into his surrounding environment. He became aware of a bright light flickering playfully from beyond his lidded eyes. He began hearing ragged shallow breath of a creature fighting for its continued survival permeated the atmosphere. Every piece of him felt like lead. His entire muscle system felt uncooperative with his attempts to move. His mind was in a constant groggy state.
Bastill could feel himself lying on a hard-unrelenting surface with his legs and feet held firmly in place. Painfully and ever-so-slowly he tried prying his heavy eyelids to peer into the room and get a sense of where he was, but it was to no avail. He continued to lie there. Desperately trying to place his ragged breath into a steady natural rhythm. With each breath he breathed, he would inhale the acrid smell and putrid taste of an over powering sulfuric smoke.
I just need to calm down, everything will be fine.
After what felt like several grueling years in his painful state of mind, he eventually summoned the strength to open his eyes into his environment. His pupils contracted to a pin's length as a raging ceremonial fire roared around him amalgamating into an archaic and demonic pattern. He could not recollect ever seeing anything like it before. The shadows of flames danced along curved walls carved from stone. He rotated his head as best he could, attempting to get an idea of where he was.
The room that held the fire was perfectly circular with a singular door leading to the unknown. The hard surface he lay on turned out to be a large stone slab centered in the middle of the room, it was surrounded by fire. Right next to his slab of stone was several bowls filled to the brim with murky ingredients and a vicious looking dagger, all positioned upon a small wooden table. To top it all off, he was naked.
"Shit shit shit, what have I gotten myself into? Everything is not fine. This cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING," Bastill started to yell in defiance.
He was sent into a spiraling panic at the various implications that he had begun to imagine. Nothing in Bastill's twenty-one years of living could have mentally prepared him for this and he somehow knew the worst had yet to come. He struggled against the now noticeable heavy rusted iron shackles that bound him. However, despite struggling until they bit into his flesh, nothing he did gave him any dream of escape. His last memory's before waking in this hell hole was having a bit of fun in a tavern before his mental faculties took a vacation.
"All I did was have one ale at the local tavern," he began to mutter in a stupor, "Someone must have drugged my drink…"
At that moment Bastill realized that he must have been drugged and brought to this goddess forsaken dismal room. In addition, judging by the abrasions he felt, he was not taken here gently, but dragged over a couple hundred miles of rough terrain. His life had been going so well until this happened. He had just finished his apprenticeship with the Artisan Guild this month. Being at his apprenticeship at the age of fifteen, he had spent the last 6 years under the tutelage of his master. He had just moved into the Expert ranking in the Sculpting skill and had finally made it out of the Apprenticeship and on to Journeyman, which required a core skill to be at the expert level.
Expert was indeed very good, however not the elite in society. At most, his status was just enough to give him an official position within the Artisan Guild. He still lacked prestige and power. That was fine with him though. He just cared for the art and the joy that came with the craft.
For commoners, most children would spend ages one to nine at home or helping their parents if they were able. At ages ten to fourteen they could try their hand at different jobs to see if they had the skill for it. Finally, at fifteen the majority would pick a profession to apprentice for. The main Guilds were: Merchant Guild, Adventurer Guild, Warrior Guild, Mage Guild, Artisan Guild. The Merchant Guild was important for increased commerce and a grander economy. They are the most successful businesses and joining them gains you better benefits and alliances among countries. The Adventurer Guild is one the largest importers of rare plants, animals, and equipment. They also receive and train a lot of apprentices from the mage and warrior guild to give them experience to level up. Killing creatures is one the best ways to gain experience, making the Adventurer Guild the best leveling Guild, which leads to both the Warrior and Mage Guild to join from time to time.
The Warrior Guild was responsible for maintaining an army and having guards available for towns and caravans. The Mage Guild brought up some of the most talented youth in the use of spells and mana manipulation. Some are conscripted into the army, others join and improve other guilds, while the rest spend time researching and teaching. The Artisan Guild specializes in creating a plethora of equipment and the best buildings. It is full of blacksmiths, crafters, alchemists, builders, and more. There were also several lesser guilds such as the: Assassin's Guild, Thief Guild, Bardic Guild, Mercenary Guild, Hunter Guild.
Six years of hard painstaking work in perfecting his craft and now on the precipice of being independent, and Bastill was now strapped to a freaking slab of stone in the middle of what looked like a demonic sacrifice. Thoughts were whipping around his mind as fast as his brain's triggering synapses could fire. This couldn't be the end of him he had so many goals to fulfill still. He was never going to get the opportunity to ask Natasha out on the town, let alone start a family all. He was definitely going to end up dead in the middle of this goddess forsaken stone prison by how things were looking. Probably sacrificed to some cruel defecating sex goddess worshiped by a crazy cult. He tried taking deep breaths and to think more positively.
Maybe whoever drugged me and chained me to this slab of stone had good intentions… Not very likely, but maybe it's all an elaborate and very messed up prank. Okay, okay. Deep breaths. Instead of accepting the inevitable I will try to get free. And preferably dressed.
Bastill decided the best strategy was to go over his assortment of skills in his Stat Menu to figure out what he had and what could help. The Stat Menu held all the information that made up his entire being. Funny how an entire screen can make a whole person. Most People at level one had all stats at 10, which was the starting average for each. If you worked hard enough you could raise them yourself. For example, if you worked out often then your strength would slowly raise or if you read frequently then your intelligence would marginally increase. While the fastest way to level was by killing creatures, another way was successfully leveling up a skill past a key point or if you were a crafter then creating something. The average level for no-combatants was around nine to nineteen. Each level also gave you 3 points to distribute to your characteristics.
Stat Menu
Level:10, Race: Human, Name: Bastill, Age: 21, Vocation: Sculptor, Gender: Male
Characteristics
Strength:17, Constitution:12, Dexterity:25, Intelligence:24, Wisdom:13, Charisma:9
Traits
Stone Touch- Due to your talent and diligence your ability working with stone has increased. You have a great understanding of the stone you work and are able to make stone you work on glow with radiance.
Skills
Sculpting: 53, Expert, Stealth: 22, Intermediate, Pick Pocket: 21, Intermediate, Lock Picking: 18, Novice, Hide: 23, Intermediate, Knife Mastery: 7, Novice, Trading: 6, Novice, Cooking: 19, Novice, Observing: 29, Intermediate
Skills were ranked Novice, Intermediate, Advanced, Expert, Master and Grandmaster. Novice started at skill level one and lasted until level nineteen. Intermediate went from twenty to thirty-nine. Advanced went from forty to forty-nine. Expert went from fifty to sixty-nine. Master went from seventy to one hundred. While Grandmaster was everything above one-hundred.
Going over his skills he remembered how rough his start had been. His skills certainly told a story. He grew up in an Orphanage and didn't gather any of the normal skills from various chores such as Gathering. Those kinds of skills are what most children would develop due to helping their parents. Instead, he joined a street gang and spent his time thieving until he turned his life around and started sculpting.
He never liked that life and was happy to get out of it. He opened a new page, put that life behind him, and threw his whole being into the work of sculpting. Because of this, sculpting had become his biggest passion in life. One of his proudest moments was gaining the Trait Stone Touch. Not that it was help now.
"Crrrk, Bang!"
The sound of the door screeching open and slamming closed startled Bastill out of his thoughts. "Well hello there darling. Looks like you had a decent nap, eh? Ready for a little experiment? I haven't ever tried this ritual before to be honest. I mean after all gathering all the ingredients, along with a sacrifice is never easy to just throw together. Took a bit of planning and time if I am being completely honest," The newcomer said in a feminine voice.
It's her!
Bits and pieces of forgotten memories came back. There had been a flirty girl drinking with him at the tavern that night. She must be the one who drugged him and now her she was. She had a beautiful face with dark cold blue eyes and deep lusty brown hair. When she entered the chamber, it began to take a hint of roses to mix sickeningly sulfuric smoke. She still had on her tight vibrant and revealing red dress that she had worn that night. It looked like he was also right about this being some insane sacrifice. At least he had a view of the asshat that did all of this to him. "Any chance we can talk this out a little?" Bastill said barely restraining himself.
"Sorry, no can do," she said off offhandedly while she mixed some sort of foul smelling components near him.
Bastill realized that whatever her plan might be, it was happening soon. He doubted that she would be willing to talk it out, but it was worth a shot. After all, villains love explaining their plans in detail allowing the hero to time to save the day. His only tactic now was to stall for more time. With more time he would be able to come up with an actual plan. "Hey why don't trade names at least? I'm Bastill. Maybe tell me why you are doing this? Even better how about you get me some clothes," he said while leaking out some of his vitriolic feelings into his voice.
The nameless woman was quickly going through the ritual. At this point the flames started to grow fiercer. The smell of sulfur grew overwhelming. Her movements became quicker. She came over to him and started drawing erratic symbols across his body. "Sorry, I'm a bit busy right now. Talk to you later though sweetie," she said as she nonchalantly grabbed the knife and plunged it into his heart.
The last thought to go through his head was.
…That …Bitch